The Adventures of Naughty Miss Jones

'cos naughty miss jones knows vibrators. Visit me at


Normal, fun, decent blokes. I’m seriously starting to wonder if they even exist (well, in the straight and available version anyway).

I continue to date like it was an Olympic sport, but I certainly haven’t won the gold. I’m more like that Eric the Eel guy that swum at the Sydney Olympics; willing to fling myself in the water, not really having a clue what I’m doing, and struggling simply to keep afloat (speaking of which, I liked that Eric guys brave style, and now I’ve googled him to confirm his name, he also has a killer body… Hmmm, I wonder if he is available next Friday night…).

I’m well aware, however, that reading about other people’s dating disasters is fun for everyone but the poor disaster sufferer so, just cos I love y’all so much, I hereby share for your guilty pleasure, and my personal shame, my fortnight of dating disasters….

1. The guy that took his top off guy – I get we all like to show off our best assets. It’s why I have so many low cut tops. On this occasion, as the young man in question and I walked back from the restaurant, I noticed he was no longer walking beside me, and looked back to see him taking his shirt off. On the side of the road. With cars driving past.

Surely that’s taking the whole showing off thing to the extreme? Anyway, drinks had been drunken, and the now naked torso was impressive, so I kissed him. Very soon into the snog fest, he pulled away suddenly. ‘Shit’ he proclaimed, ‘now I have a boner’.

And he promptly ran away. Yep, that happened.

2. The ‘modeling agent’ guy
– I didn’t actually meet this one, he was a tinder boy. When he told me he was a modeling agent, I presumed he was joking, and responded ‘oh, you’ve probably seen my work with Victoria’s Secret, ha ha’.

Over the next week, I was hit with a barrage of messages ‘missy, we really should see about getting your portfolio together’, ‘I’ve shown your tinder profile to some clients, they love your look’, ‘would you be comfortable doing lingerie’, that kinda thing. I didn’t respond to any of them.

Dude, I’m 5’5, have the lines of a thirty year old women who laughs often, and a little belly that is testament to my (impressive) beer drinking ability. Oh, and I wasn’t born yesterday. Delete!

3. The re-starter guy – we had a nice date, that ended with setting up another date the following Sunday during the day. The day before, I messaged him, just to confirm details, and got nothing in response. Nothing, that is, until the evening of the day our date had meant to happen. Then he messages me, completely ignoring the whole we were meant to go on a date thing. No apology, nothing. It’s like he was trying to ‘re-start’ the conversation and skim over the fact he had screwed me over. What a waste of a Sunday! Don’t call me buddy, I’ll call you.

4. The ‘I really want to suck your boobs’ guy
– he said this to me before I’d even finished my first drink. Enough said.

5. The ‘I’m an act-or’ guy – Another tinder boy, I hadn’t really chatted to him too much so knew little about him. ‘So‘ I kicked off the conversion ‘what do you do?‘. ‘I’m an actor’ he responded, with all the emotion and grandeur of a summer bay resident who realised his half brother (via fostering) had just returned from Yabby Creek only to be killed by a river boy in a shoot out down the diner.

Great‘ I responded, ‘what have you been in?’. He fumbled for a bit, and without really providing any response, undertook a strange maneuver whereby he put one leg over the arm rest of the bucket seat upon which he was seated. It’s like he wanted me to be distracted from his completely empty acting resume by drawing my attention to his crotch.

And he was just a bit of a tool, really.

6. The ‘Just drop me at my next date’ guy – it had been his birthday, so I volunteered to take him out for lunch. I actually put a bit of effort into trying to make it a nice experience for him, thinking he would appreciate it.

Hmm, turns out he appreciated it so much he had planned another date straight after mine, which he actually asked me to drop him to. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend he was meeting a mate. And (oh the shame!) I think I was so blindsided by the sheer arrogance of his request I actually agreed, and caught the eye of his ‘night time slot’ as he disembarked my car.  And then I promptly burst into tears.

Surely, surely this isn’t normal?

On Monday morning I rocked up to my coffee shop and when my friendly barista guy asked ‘How was your weekend Jonesy?’, I simply grunted in response. ‘Ha‘ he laughed ‘what’s his name?’.  Little did he know it wasn’t just one ‘he’ who was sucking the spirit from this little sex toy merchant.

Now, I know I’m a good catch. My dad told me so, and he is a very wise man. But if this is the type of bloke out there I’m likely to be caught by, I’ll stick to my vibrators, thanks.

Either that, or my date with Eric the Eel this Friday night will go swimmingly (see what I did there?) and we will live happily ever after.


Naughty Miss Jones xx

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